


i'm your crime

by WinchesterBurger



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Venom (2018) Fusion, Angst, Blood, Connor Deserves Happiness, Eddie!Connor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Heartbreak, M/M, No Smut, Pain, Protective Hank Anderson, Sharing a Body, Swearing, Traci's girlfriend's name is Ellie, Venom!Hank, Violence, and she's a sweetheart, everybody cares about everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 21:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17589137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterBurger/pseuds/WinchesterBurger
Summary: Meet Connor. He's lonely and heartbroken, convinced that there's nothing left for him except for a bitter life with his cat. Convinced that everything hurts.But there's an alien, a weird and creepy, strangely kind alien. He's a parasite that slowly kills Connor and uses him for anything he wants, yet he's something more than he claims - he's a good person.





	i'm your crime

**Author's Note:**

> And finally! I'm posting this work for all of you. I've been working so hard on it and I'm really proud of how it worked out! It's my first one-shot with word count beyond 10k and I'm not a native speaker, so this was a great challenge. 
> 
> Thanks to guys from Big Bang discord, [Muchy](https://muchymozzarella.tumblr.com/) for creating such an amazing challenge, my wonderful beta [Iocane](<a%20href=) who helped in shaping this fanfic into something you all would read and [Owlapin](http://owlapinart.tumblr.com/) who made a beautiful piece of art for the cover!
> 
> the title from 'copycat' by billie eilish

He really is a loser.

The day is sunny and warm, but Connor feels like shit. His phone ended up being thrown at the wall and broken after his girlfriend had called him and left him for one of her work colleagues, because Connor was apparently _using her_. And also just after his boss had handed him a dismissal paper, because he didn’t like the way Connor had been interviewing people. He accused him of being too aggressive and nosy, at which Connor winced.

“Isn’t it my job to be nosy?” He asked in that moment. A bang of the door was the only answer he got..

So here he is: jobless, completely alone, in a little shitty flat that is his house now. It’s the worst fucking day of his life.

“See, Gav? We’re so fucked up,” he sighs and pats his cat’s head. Gavin, a spiteful and fluffy moggy, glances up at him with _that_ look in his eyes. “Yeah, I know. _I_ am fucked up.”

Shit. Even his cat holds no sympathy for him. At least, a week-old chicken nuggets laying on the shelf of his fridge look understandingly and don’t smell half as bad as he thought they would.

Everything is Kamski’s fault. He is the bad guy here, not Connor – why wouldn’t anyone believe him? People are dying because of this madman, are being sacrificed for “the greater cause” and for what? For nothing. Life Foundation was meant to find a cure to all kinds of cancers, but so far, they have none. Sick children are still dying in hospitals, in pain, having lived a couple of years filled with tears and mental issues. No one knows what’s happening inside the Life Foundation labs, and no one digs to find out. Society had accepted it and when someone thinks “ _hey, it’s not normal, isn’t it?_ ”, they are silenced.

In this moment of his life, Connor hates everything, but if there is one thing he hates the most, it’s his helplessness. If only he could do something, if only he had a chance to prove that Life Foundation’s opinion is built on lies, then he could’ve given his life for it. But right now he can’t even get ahold of himself.

What kind of a man is he, he wonders as he makes his way to the store.

Ralph looks at him twice as cautiously as he normally would when he leans down and peeks into the newspaper box. It doesn’t surprise him that it’s empty.

“As always, Ralph takes only five dollars for one. It’s a real discount,” the homeless man says and sends Connor a smile that warms him up a little. It’s good to know there’s always someone to treat him nice, even if it’s a dude selling free newspapers.

“Is Connor alright? He doesn’t look good.”

“Yes, man, I’m just…” He gets lost in the words that make a loop around his brain, buzzing uncomfortably as they go. Should he confide to an almost stranger? Has he fallen so low? He decides against it, hoping that somehow he will believe in his own lie. “It’s been a tough day. You know how it is.” It takes him a few seconds to realize what he just said.

“Ralph understands.” The man doesn’t look offended, thank God, at Connor’s words. Instead, he keeps on smiling. “Maybe a newspaper will cheer Connor up? He can get it for three dollars and I can sing him a song”.

Connor laughs unconsciously. “Twenty dollars and please, don’t you dare start singing.”

He is too soft-hearted – he’s heard it enough, but it was never a problem for him. He thrusts a twenty dollar bill into Ralph’s hands and takes the newspaper the man’s been holding the entire time, folding it messily and cramming inside the big pocket of his hoodie. He sends Ralph a small smile before entering the grocery store.

Kara eyes him with an amused grin that falls as she notices his eyebags and the greyish hue of his skin.

“You look like shit, you know that?”

And Connor needs to stop in front of the counter, because she’s always been the kindest woman he knew, but his ears aren’t fooling him. She really said that.

“Excuse me?” He asks, nonetheless. Dumbly, he soon realizes.

“You look like shit,” she repeats, worried expression on her young face.

Connor grumbles _thank you_ as he heads towards the fridges in search of canned food. It’s cheap, it’s edible, it’s perfect. He knows that one day he’ll run out of money and it doesn’t look like someone would want to hire him. The case of his unsuccessful interview with Kamski left his professional reputation in tatters, so his involuntary vacation will probably last a lot longer than he previously thought.

The store bell rings and Connor hears someone entering. He doesn’t react until there’s a click of a gun and even then he only peeks from between the aisles.  

A shady bearded man points his gun at Kara and calmly demands her to empty the cash register. She looks painfully unhappy about it, but does what he wants and soon the man leaves. Connor feels even worse.

He puts three cans of baked beans on the counter, shyly meeting Kara’s eyes. She frowns at him, but she doesn’t look angry – there’s sadness flowing over the lines of her face. Connor doesn’t know which one is actually worse.

“Life hurts, Con,” Kara says as she scans his shopping. Her hands are shaking and she almost drops the last can. “This is how it goes. It always hurts.”

Her words echo in his head as he makes his way down the street, passes Ralph and takes the alley leading to his block. Maybe if he wasn’t such a coward, he could’ve made her life a bit easier, but fear never leaves him. It’s the biggest thing that stops him from acting. That’s probably why he’s not planning on calling Tracy and trying to fix the mistakes he’s made; at least not in near future.

He gets bumped into a brick wall and a wave of panic rushes down his veins until he sees the person that’s holding him on arm length. His stupid mind expects a beefy rowdy – there’s a lot of them in this area after sunset – but it’s only some pretty woman with a cascade of long blonde hair and a set of the bluest eyes Connor’s ever seen, accented by a strong eyeliner. She’s wearing a far too elegant suit and an expensive looking coat – she’s definitely not from around here.

“Connor Anderson?” She asks somewhat panic-stricken and he fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“I’m not doing any of this shit anymore,” he mumbles loud enough for her to hear, trying to wiggle from under her grip, but his other shoulder gets grabbed and she appears in his vision again.

“I _really_ need your help,” she says urgently, keeping her voice quiet. As if she’s afraid of something. “I’m working for Life Foundation.”

Connor raises his eyebrows. “Oh, you do? Then I don’t think I can get you the right help. Contact a specialist or some shit.”

He pushes himself off the wall and is met with the same barrier again. Damn, she’s strong.

“Please, you _have_ to listen to me.” The blonde woman looks around quickly before focusing back on him. “I saw your interview with Mr. Kamski. You were right. About the accusations, I mean.”

“Yeah? Good to know,” he replies ironically. Apparently, she doesn’t know what irony is.

“Kamski is sick. He’s using homeless people, ‘volunteers’ as he likes to call them, to experiment on them. He’s pairing them with the life forms from other planets – the _symbiotes_ – that come from Life Foundation’s space missions. They _all_ die. But it’s not everything. You surely heard about the spaceship accident that happened a couple of months back. One of the symbiotes was lost that day. They still don’t know where it is.”

It’s a lot. All the information he needs to prove his theory is gathered in one statement of a person that works for the Foundation, but Connor’s bitter. In the end, he wouldn’t have a way to use all these facts. Not anymore.

“Why don’t you call the police? If you haven’t noticed yet, I’m very much done with the journalist job and right now I’m useless.”

“I can’t!” She hisses surprisingly powerfully. “I have a family! I can’t put their lives in danger. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Yes, exactly, I wouldn’t. And you know why? Because I lost everything, thanks to your boss. Send him my regards when you see him again.”

She looks so desperate and in the verge of tears that he feels guilty for a second. And then he remembers that she started all of this herself, so he doesn’t need to care about her. He uses the chance and slips away from her now slack grip.

“Please! We can help each other. Call me if you’ll change your mind. I’d appreciate it.”

She hands him a business card Connor doesn’t even bother looking at. He fists his hand around the cardstock, not caring if it gets crushed in the process, turns around and leaves.

He hears tapping of her heels quiet down as he walks away and heads in the opposite direction.

 

●●

 

There’s nothing wrong with him, really. He needed to calm down, so he went on a walk. If the route of his walk decided to run next to his ex-girlfriend’s house, it was just a coincidence. I assure you. It was a coincidence.

Just how by accident he’s standing here like a creep and watching the kitchen light flicker even through the curtain. He told himself he’d fix it; now it’s too late even for that.

He hears a roar of engine and turns around immediately. It’s fucking too late to worry about people thinking he’s some kind of a stalker, but he doesn’t want any real troubles, okay?

It turns out to be a taxi with a very confused Traci in it. She stands on the pavement a good five feet away from here and looks him dead in the eye.

“What are you doing here, Connor?”

He never felt so bad in his entire life. Well, he asked for it himself. “I was just… Passing by and... I-I saw the light I ought to fix and, well…”

“Is everything okay, sweetheart?” The voice is feminine. The body that emerges from the car’s other back door, too. Wow.

It’s a tall woman with short cropped red hair and in an eccentric jacket that looks like straight from a Gucci shop. Connor feels like a junkman in his old washed-out hoodie and jeans that have at least one hole in them. Tracy turns around and smiles to the woman, lacing their fingers together.

“Yes, Ellie. By the way, this is Connor.”

“Oh,” Ellie regards him attentively, however her eyes are warmer that he thinks he deserves. She even fixes her smile and reaches a hand that he shakes. “Nice to meet you, Connor, Traci told me a lot about you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” he nods, wanting to melt into the pavement. He’s an intruder here.

“You two probably have a lot to talk about. I’ll wait upstairs.” She leans over Traci and kisses her. Connor looks away.

Ellie disappears inside of the house, and Traci crosses her arms over her chest, waiting.

“So, she’s that colleague.”

“Yeah, kinda. She’s a doctor.”

“Oh. She’s nice.”

“She is. Has a heart of gold.”

She used to tell him he had a heart of gold, too, but it always was his defect. It seems like even Ellie’s heart of gold is better than his was. He clears his throat, meeting her eyes again.

“I’m.. sorry. I didn’t mean to come here, it just happened. I still can’t believe it,” Connor says, letting the words spill out of his lips. It feels good. “It wasn’t so long ago that we were going to start a family. I just… I just can’t believe we’re not… Not anymore.”

Traci doesn’t stop looking at him, but her face isn’t so harsh now. She’s been thinking about it, too. At least it seems so, judging by the hurt in her sorrowful eyes.

So he takes a leap of faith. “Can we try, to be the way we used to be?”

“No.”

It hurts - Kara was right, it always hurts.

“I lost my job because of you, Connor. I trusted you. And you broke that trust.”

She passes him by in her way to the door and pats him on the shoulder. It’s a brief thing, but it’s enough to break him down and make him close his eyes. He waits until he hears a click of the lock, then doesn’t try to control the ugly sobs that escape his throat.

His feet bring him to one of the nearest bridges – it’s the one close to the Life Foundation complex that overlooks the lake. The lights are on and it looks like the whole firm is working 24/7.

“Evil never sleeps,” Connor whispers under his breath and snorts when he gets his own pun. Pathetic.

He fishes out the engagement ring he had used to propose to Traci with. The ring she gave him back crying. The ring he wants to throw into the endless expanse of dark water, but stops himself, because it’s worth more than his entire apartment. He doesn’t have strength to sell it yet, but maybe one day he will get his money back and buy himself a load of beer. Oh, he could use a drink.

Something rustles in his pocket as he hides the ring inside and his fingers curl around the wrinkled business card printed with a phone number and a name. Chloe Manfred. His key to the Life Foundation labs.

He types the number onto his repaired cellphone and hits the green symbol. Only two beeps separate him from the same voice he heard on his way home, however it’s calm now. The woman introduces herself neatly and even if it makes him a little more sure about everything, it still brings weird anxiety to his stomach.

“It’s Connor Anderson. Talk to me.”

 

●●

 

Nerves pulsing through his veins along with hot blood make him dizzy as they leave Chloe’s car and almost run to big modern doors that lead inside of the building. She scans some kind of a card with a strange looking sensor and the doors open, allowing them to enter an elevator. The woman doesn’t stop talking during the entire process – shouldn’t they be discreet? She can’t know what it means.

“The fourth symbiote went missing right after the spaceship had crashed. The traces lead to the only survivor, an astronaut. They later died in an ambulance accident.”

“The ambulance rolled over, yeah. I worked on that case, but it wasn’t worth the time.”

“So you probably don’t know that there were three people in the ambulance as it left the scene: a driver, a doctor and the victim.” She turns around to him when the elevator stirs and smoothly goes up. “The police found only two bodies.” 

Connor frowns, leaning on the wall behind him and crossing his arms on his chest. “What happened to the third one? Was it the crash victim?”

“Actually, no. It was the doctor. They had found her body in the nearest town, shrouded with terrible rumors.”

“How did she end up there? She couldn’t have had enough strength to move on her own, let alone walk, could she?”

“Her body was completely destroyed from the inside, but it didn’t look like possible car accident injuries.”

They’re both quiet until the elevator stops and dings. The floor Chloe chose is silent, her heels make the only noise here; Connor worries that soon someone will pay attention to them. He tries to connect the facts, but it’s just a dumb story one would tell a child to frighten them. The symbiote doesn’t fit here. Unless…

“Earlier you said that Kamski’s been pairing the volunteers with symbiotes. Does it… work?” Chloe looks at him over her shoulder.

“In some cases, yes. If a body is strong enough, it can hold a symbiote for a couple of hours, maybe days. If it’s not, the symbiote eats the body from the inside until… There’s nothing more to use. Then it moves to another host. Our longest result is seven days. We think that the symbiote settled down for good.”

It doesn’t sound half as comforting as it’s probably meant to; Connor feels horrible with the knowledge. He’s hungry, but it doesn’t stop his stomach from getting sick.

“How many hosts did this symbiote use before…”

She doesn’t respond – either she doesn’t know or doesn’t want to tell him. It’s good, somehow. Connor’s curious as always, yet he doesn’t feel the same inquisitiveness. He just wants to take some pictures, get his proof and leave. It will be enough.

In the exact same moment, he hears a series of fast and heavy steps from around the corner. Chloe looks at him with panic in her eyes and quickly unlocks the closest door in which direction they’ve headed.

“Stay quiet and don’t touch anything. I’ll take care of it,” she says before the door slides to a close. Connor gets a glimpse of a dark-skinned man in a guard suit and hears Chloe’s cheerful “ _Chris!_ ”, then he’s all alone in a dim and noiseless room.

It turns out to be one of the labs. There’s glass everywhere and everything looks expensive, all these scanners and computers. Even the floor looks like from a science-fiction movie. Connor doesn’t know how to move here, but before he has a chance to think about anything “clever”, he notices a body shape inside some kind of a glass cage. He inches closer carefully, shock hitting him harder with each step.

It’s a person, a man to be specific, laying motionless on the metal floor. There’s a black puddle somewhere around his chest, and the sight makes Connor’s throat tighten. His eyes travel higher, meeting a note that says _days in host: 3_.

The lights in this cage are off, the corners glimmering in pale red, spreading an afterglow that feels wrong. This man is dead, and so is the symbiote. This is what Chloe was talking about. It hurts to take a photo, but he has to, he knows it.

Connor finds two more transparent cages – the first one tells him the host number two survived seventeen hours, and the second… the second cage is illuminated with white light. The body in there isn’t a dead one, it’s a living, breathing person that crouches in the corner and shakes, the black puddle nowhere to be seen. He approaches the barrier separating them with nervous sweat running down his spine, with hope that burns bright on the very top of his heart.

As soon as he’s fairly close and the trembling shadow becomes fully visible, the person – the woman looks up with a sharp motion of her neck, and before he knows she jumps and nearly sinks into the glass. His first impulse is to jump back, his mind telling him the glass is going to break, although he knows it’s not possible. It’s too strong to shatter from an impact this small.

However, it vibrates with warning and brings goosebumps all over Connor’s skin.

“Help me,” the poor woman mouths, and then says it out loud, and then shouts. It’s the most painful sound he’s ever heard, the pleading tears holes in his mind until he comes up with the most improvised solution he can think of. A fire distinguisher hangs off the wall, so Connor makes his way towards it and turns around with his hands around the metal bottle when the woman screams in agony, the skin on her arms suddenly going black and stringy. He feels panic bubbling up in his lungs as the air in them tenses and breathing becomes a difficulty, and the bottle hits the glass one, two, six times before it smashes to pieces.

There’s something pungent about the air, but Connor doesn’t have time to consider it when the woman’s weight falls on him, pinning him down to the cold floor. He fights her and fights and fights, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, yet not doing any good as she seems to have inhuman strength. At some point his muscles give up – he doesn’t have time to register it. The woman’s face is close, too close, and there’s something sliding down his throat.

Wait _what_.

He gags a little when the thing suddenly isn’t _there_ and instead, he feels it in his _muscles_ and his _blood_ and his _organs_ , everything coming down to one thought: _he’s going to die_. Except he’s not. His mind becomes a ragged mess with no sense, his own name being repeated a thousand times by a strange, deep voice circling around it, but otherwise he’s fine. He’s incredibly fine, actually; he almost doesn’t feel like himself.

A loud thump of something hitting the floor wakes him up from his little trance. He rolls over and sits, instantly noticing the woman. His hands shake as they touch her neck to check for a pulse, but there’s nothing and fear flows over him as her filmy eyes hollow a hole in his face from between the oily strands of her dark hair. It’s his fault. They’re going to find him and arrest him, and accuse him of murder. He’s finished if he’s not gonna move.

**_Run._ **

Connor doesn’t know its source, but this voice is definitely smart – it’s also gruff and kind of scary, yet he doesn’t pay attention to details. His back straightens, his legs take huge steps and even as he jumps over a desk and smashes a door with one hand, he’s not tired at all; his vision is sharp, but mind blurry. There’s only him and people that try to shoot him, but he’s always faster than their bullets. A laugh grows in his throat and a low roar escapes. A high fence looks like an obstacle, so it ends up with a gap that easily fits his tall form. It feels like flying, the speed with which he runs with is much higher than normally and blood doesn’t spill from the tiny wounds the pointed ends of the fence left – when Connor checks his hands for them, there are none, too. The panic caused by unawareness and lack of understanding gets covered by something hot and swollen that lulls Connor’s consciousness into light sleep. It’s a nice feeling.

He runs and runs and runs, until one of the bullets reaches him. It gets stuck in his back, closer to the stomach than he’d like, and there’s only a short pang of pain before the wound twists and softens, bringing a comforting wave of warmth that sharply erases the pain from its field. Connor wants to scream in agony in the first second, yet it disappears almost as soon as it arrived and he’s left with his mouth hanging open. He doesn’t know what and how, and definitely not _why_ , but it doesn’t stop from murmuring a breathy _Thank you_. Nothing replies, as expected, but there’s a quick stroke of warmth inside him.

His focus is caught by a loud series of roars in the distance. It takes his foggy brain a moment to realize that they come from trucks – very big and fast trucks, he thinks as they appear on his opposite sides, both driving in his direction. It’s too late to give up, the bullets aren’t hesitant – they weren’t from the beginning. The guards would shoot him the second he stopped, there’s no doubt. He looks around, feeling awfully pathetic and helpless, and then his eyes catch a slim figure of a tree. A tall one. **_It will be enough_ **, he thinks, but the thoughts don’t feel like his own; they’re dark and edgy, almost scratching. His muscles tighten up without his will as his legs and arms shoot up to wrap around the tree, not caring about the amount of blood that drips from his skin and immediately isn’t there anymore. Connor’s inhumanly fast, getting on the tree’s top in a moment that feels like a few seconds. Maybe they are, however his mind is being forcefully focused on the people on the ground and he can’t dwell on the thought any longer.

“Where is he?!” He hears their surprised, angry and sort of frightened shouts. “ _What_ is he?”

Connor wants to know, too.

 

●●

 

He ends up in his little dirty flat somehow and doesn’t remember how he got there in the first place; one thing he can recall is that he had passed out at some point. It’s morning now, maybe even afternoon, but his gaze is too sharp to focus – everything flows in garish colors, jumping from one thing to the other in matter of seconds. He doesn’t have a headache, which is weird, but not unwelcome. In fact, Connor feels too good as a person who just got shot, tore up a gap in a metal fence and climbed a tree. He’s so hungry that his stomach twists in an almost-pain and his fridge’s emptiness suddenly becomes a problem.

Gradually, his mind clears from the hazy state and panic rushes through his veins. The problem isn’t even the fact that he had broken into the Life Foundation lab and nearly died during the escape, no. The _real_ issue comes with what he had carried out of there. Connor knows that the symbiote should be visible, or he should be able to sense it since he doesn’t even understand how its kind works. Yet, there’s nothing except the second consciousness hidden deep in his mind where he can’t reach, the second trail of thoughts he can’t grasp. It’s terrifying, but when he thinks about it that way, a jab of bitterness hits him and a complete opposite appears – a soothing feeling, similar to the one that emerged along with the bullet wound. It kind of eases his fears, not for long though. He doesn’t know shit about this thing living in him.

Living in him? God, it makes him sick. The second he hears the low growl of his stomach, he loses contact with his limbs that apparently have their own minds now. He runs over to the fridge, opens it and takes out the only containers left – the last bag of expired nuggets, two cans of baked beans from which one is open, and a carton of milk. They would never go together and he knows it well, but his hands think otherwise. When the nuggets are heating up in the oven, he devours the beans and washes it down with milk. Somewhere between one and the other bite of chicken he gets a chance of reaching for his phone and chooses Traci’s number. It falls from his trembling hands as sickness overwhelms him and guides him to the bathroom.  
  
He vomits so many times and with such force that his throat literally burns, almost not letting him utter a word. Cold water splashes his face in hope of washing away sweat and sick feeling, but his skin gets more sweaty with each second. It’s pointless.  
  
**_Connor._ **  
  
The same voice calls out again, but in the silence of his flat and relative peace without bullets flying around make it a lot louder than before; louder and sharper. Darker. It sends a shiver down Connor’s spine and makes him jump, sending him crashing into the bathtub.  
  
“What the fuck,” he whispers, staring at himself in the mirror. Honestly. Why him.  
  
He comes back to the kitchen and grabs the phone, the unknown strength not stopping him anymore. He tries not to think about the echo of the voice that keeps floating around his mind as the signal rings and rings and rings, and finally there’s Traci on the other side.  
  
“I’m not okay,” Connor says without greeting, but that’s not the roughest she’d ever heard him. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”  
  
“Connor? Is it urgent? I don’t have much–”  
  
“Yes, yes, it is. I… I think I have a parasite. But not like that!” His scream bounces against the wall and he can almost see Traci wincing at the sound of it. “I was in Life Foundation and I-I think I got infected.”  
  
“You were _where_ ? Calm down! Geez, take a deep breath, you’re delirious. Call me later?”  
  
“I need help, Traci. Just… Just help me, please.”  
  
It’s panic talking, not him. Not entirely, at least. He feels like a complete idiot, but with every second he also feels physically worse. What if his body’s not enough for the symbiote? He’s going to die in a matter of hours, probably in his own flat, drowning in misery and loneliness. He… He can’t end up like this.  
  
It’s a surprise to realize that he doesn’t want to die.  
  
“Is Ellie with you?”  
  
A confused silence. “She is, we’re eating lunch in the restaurant nearby the hospital. What is your point?”  
  
Connor hits the red symbol, cutting her voice in half as her questions flow through the line and he can’t listen to them anymore.

 

●●

 

Getting to the restaurant is a bigger challenge than Connor expects. His stomach seems to hurt in a way that he never thought it could – it almost feels like he’s dying. _Almost_ . His muscles feel harder and stronger, allowing him to run faster and longer than ever before, and it’s a big help, but with each step the hunger grows. Fortunately, he reaches the restaurant before it can evolve into something more painful.  
  
They sit at the table on the platform, both fitting in with the crowd of the restaurant’s guests, clothes all elegant and expensive, postures straight. As he enters the room, his eyes pick on the large lobster tank in the middle – it’s filled with muddy water and what appears to be a bunch of thick lobsters – and he starts to drool. They look so tasty, so fat that he almost loses his control right in the first second, but gathers himself somehow and makes a beeline for Traci and Ellie’s table. A guard follows him from his very first step, however he’s faster.  
  
Traci looks kind of furious as she notices him; Ellie, on the other hand, is frightened. Connor can’t blame her. Last time he saw himself in a store’s display mirror he was pale, eyes red and swollen.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Traci hisses through her teeth, glancing at the approaching guard who looks even more raging than her.  
  
“I really need your help, Tracy. I don’t know what is happening to me.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“Sir, you need to leave the restaurant immediately.” The guard catches Connor’s hand insistently and fear creeps his way up his throat again, so he spins around, grabs ahold of the other man and throws him across the room.  
  
... _what?_  
  
It causes panic among the guests – they were alarmed before, since the moment he appeared, but now all of them stopped eating, some stood in shock. Connor doesn’t care – or pretends not to – and just turns back to Traci and Ellie who picks up a knife and holds it tilted slightly in his direction. The voice in him growls dangerously at the glimmer of light that the metal reflects.  
  
“I don’t control my actions anymore. I’m _dangerous_ .” Remembering she’s a doctor, he leans towards Ellie and grasps her wrist, pretending not to catch the way she shivers at the contact. “Help me,” he whispers.  
  
And then his part in controlling his body ends and this _something_ makes him run to the lobster tank and _jump_ into it. The water is cold, but with it a great relief comes; coolness washes away the heat glued to his skin as three lobsters rub against his legs. He reaches out, hand meeting one of them, and tightens his grip around it. The crustacean tries to wiggle out, but its force is nothing in comparison to Connor’s. He lifts it and takes a bite. A literal, deep bite that makes his teeth sink into the hard crust and break it with ease, and aggressively tear off a huge piece of fresh meat. The poor thing ends its life in pain, doesn’t stop moving until the last breath leaves its body.  
  
Has Ellie been by his side all this time?  
  
“-nor. Connor!” She grips the rim of the aquarium tightly, her knuckles going white, but she doesn’t dare touching him. He wants to stop so badly, yet the lobster’s such a good meal that he simply can’t. The panicked noises echo in his ears, it’s not a big deal ignoring them. He does it with pleasure, ripping a second lobster’s head from its body.  
  
“I’ll get you to the hospital, okay? Buddy, it’ll be alright. You just need to trust me and come out of that water, will you do that for me?”  
  
He doesn’t remember much: Ellie’s hand guiding him to the exit, her whispers in his ear, Traci’s frantic apologies. Strangers’ looks on the street. Their murmurs. His own screams. Connor doesn’t know how, but he succeeded in not hurting Ellie nor Traci on the way to the hospital and he’s so grateful for that. He doesn’t want to think what would happen if this _something_ didn’t like them.  
  
He’s lucky Ellie’s a doctor, so they don’t have to wait for their turn in a long line of patients – they just go right into the MRI room, only scaring Ellie’s friend a bit. Connor gets maneuvered inside a weird looking machine that he’s never seen in real life before, and after Traci assures him that they aren’t going far, that they’re going to be behind the protecting glass she leaves him alone. It’s quiet here, the glass wall doesn’t let sounds through apparently, and the only connection he has with Ellie is a hidden microphone and a speaker.  
  
“I’m going to take a scan of you now. Are you ready?”  
  
He nods before it’s clear that she can’t see him. “Yes,” he mutters instead, fidgeting a little on an awfully uncomfortable table that was probably meant to be professional and soothing at the same time. It’s not.  
  
As the microphone turns off, the machine beeps into life and the second the scan starts, Connor’s body twists in convulsions of plain agony. His throat seems to be tearing itself off as he screams and screams, and the voice in his head screams, too, but these shouts are louder and more violent. Soon, he gets a headache that adds to the inhuman amount of pain shaking his arms and legs, and all insides. Sickness comes back to him, but before it can evolve, the machine stops and Traci dashes in.  
  
“ _Connor!_ Are you okay? Connor! Can you hear me?”  
  
He can, even too good given the throbbing in his temples, yet his voice isn’t his anymore. This _something_ doesn’t let him speak; Connor feels only waves of hurt which flood his lungs until tears come streaming down his cheeks.  
  
Ellie appears disembodied in the speaker. “We have to do this. Let’s try again.”  
  
**_No!_ **  
  
It’s only the third time he hears the voice so sharply in his mind and it affects him so much that he shouts the same word aloud. Traci trembles at the sound.  
  
“You have to hold on, Con, just a little while longer. You _have to_ .”  
  
“No.”  
  
And with that he stands and moves outside of the glass room and outside of the MRI room, and outside, and outside, and outside ‘till he’s on the way home. He doesn’t run anymore, the reason isn’t lack of strength though. He’s strangely strong, in fact, but his mind and body are still sore from the machine’s impact. He catches several people staring at him as they pass him, but can’t tell why. Some look afraid, some trip over as they meet his eyes. It’s… uneasy, to say the least.  
  
By the time Connor gets to his flat, his mood drastically drops. His stomach is being ripped by sick waving that makes him sit down on the bed immediately, his temples being hit time after time with blunt pain which doesn’t want to go away, even after he swallows a pill and drinks a cup of mildly stale water, both always resting on his bedside cabinet. His spine aches, marrow _itches_ , ears ring, so he lays down on a freshly washed set of bedding and closes his eyes, _just for a second_.

 

●●

 

An annoying ringtone wakes him up and as soon as he reaches for its source, he chucks out a cluster of curses. It’s Traci and the song is a lame compilation of trumpet sounds, just something that suits his taste obviously.  
  
“Connor? Thank fuck, I’ve tried calling you seven times before you finally kindly answered. What the hell did you pull out there today? Where are you?”  
  
The man rubs his face with a free hand. He really, really doesn’t have enough energy to do any of this shit right now. “I felt worse, had to get out and take a breath. Fell asleep.”  
  
“I was worried, asshole. Ellie was, too.”  
  
“Thank her from me, will ya? It was nice of her and all, I screwed it up.”  
  
“You did, but that’s not what I’m calling for. Con, the MRI scan was successful, they got the scan and it… It’s nothing good,” she stops for a second and it feels like a bad melodramatic pause, yet Connor shivers. “Ellie doesn’t know what the thing inside you is. It’s… It’s everywhere. In your lungs, bones, heart. She suspects it might be an extremely aggressive cancer, somewhere between third of fourth stage. Either way, you’re dying.”  
  
“That’s impossible,” he whispers so quietly that it’s doubtful she hears him. He… he really doesn’t want to die.  
  
Who would’ve thought.  
  
“You mentioned that you were in the Life Foundation labs, is that true? Be honest.”  
  
“I was!” Connor shouts in mild panic and his anger grows, quickly and beastly, directing itself at everything and nothing in particular. It’s like fire, taking all the oxygen away from him and building its flames on it, so he can’t breathe. It’s overwhelming, intractable, and it closes a thick layer of darkness around him, isolating him from the outside world. The only thing that he feels, or rather hears, is a never ending series of obscure words. The voice speaks in English, there’s no doubt, but it seems to use the language backwards.  
  
However, there is something that he can decode. One word. A name.  
  
**_Henry_**.  
  
“Connor, are you there?”  
  
Traci’s voice cuts through the layer like a knife through butter. The voice subsides. Gavin materialises at the doorstep, jumps on his bed and snuggles between Connor’s legs before licking one of them.  
  
“Yes, I’m sorry. I was… busy.”  
  
“Nevermind. You thought that you got infected, is that right? By what?”  
  
Connor brings his lower lip between his teeth. His head starts to spin. “They’re keeping some kind of… parasites that came from space. I saw them, two were dead and the third… Well, that’s sort of my fault?”  
  
“What is your fault?”  
  
“I wasn’t fighting hard enough and now I’m sharing my body with the third one.”  
  
“You’re _what?_ Connor, you have to come to the hospital, _now_. I’m calling Ellie, she’ll he–”  
  
His hearing sharpens in a instant, pushing Traci’s voice into the background, and catches a few pairs of rapidly moving feet outside the hallway. His body moves on autopilot as he mutters “I have to go” into the phone, drops the device on the mattress and gets up, leaving the confused pet alone and heading to the kitchen. He’s not fast enough though – the second he enters it with the intention of grabbing a knife, the door falls apart in front of his eyes and a short but beefy man jumps in.  
  
**_Reach for him._**  
  
It’s a good move. His hand melts into silver mass at some point, but it’s the last thing he should worry about now. The second man, also dressed in dark clothes just as his friend, fires a series of bullets in his direction.  
  
**_Roll over._** ** _  
_****_  
_** Third, fourth, fifth. More guys come into his flat in a hurry, all of them carrying guns, all of them aiming at him. Connor’s able to hear the clicks of the triggers before the metal hits his body, but he doesn’t feel anything. As he opens his eyes, previously closed instinctively, a large wall of darkness is separating him from the rest of the room. He sees a glimpse of two white balls that alarmingly look like a lot eyes, and then all of it disappears. His hands appear to be clasped around a blonde man’s wrists, squeezing them, breaking their bones. The gun held by him fires and the blond’s friends aren’t able to run before seven perfectly aimed bullets reach them. The room fills with choked screams and abrupt gasps, but Connor doesn’t have enough time to register it. His body suddenly grows and grows, suddenly feels stronger, invincible, and it’s the best feeling that’s ever come over him.  
  
At least until it’s not under his control anymore, _again_ , and he wouldn’t mind, but he never get to have anything good.  
  
He leans down, opens his mouth and closes it on the still-alive man’s head. The skull crunches between his teeth as he chews and the brain’s too flaccid for his taste, too flavorless, but this something inside him hums in content. Connor is slowly getting used to constant panic flooding his system.  
  
**_I’m not something. Have a name. Told ya._**  
  
Okay, maybe he’s not getting used to it. He wants to run as fast and as far as he can. Unsurprisingly, his body is still not his.  
  
**_Will you calm down finally? You’re irritating as all fuck. And lucky that we’re compatible, otherwise your head would be chewed right now._** ** _  
_****_  
_** The voice sounds different than it did before, or it seems so. If it was human’s, it could be even called kind, despite the bearish vibe it gives. It _is_ kind of nice, kind of soothing. It makes Connor raise his eyebrows (or try to) and stop mentally shaking.  
  
**_That’s better. If you’ll be like that more often, maybe we can cooperate._** ** _  
_****_  
_**_What if I… don’t want to cooperate?_ _  
__  
_**_Then I’ll use you._**  
  
Well, fair enough. It’s a next level of weirdness, knowing that your parasite has its own mind and thoughts and all that plus it just saved you from attempted murder.  
  
**_And_** _it_ ** _knows your thoughts, too. How magical._** ** _  
_****_  
_** Connor shakes his head and it occurs to him that he’s back to his normal independent form. As he tries to wiggle his fingers and stretch his tongue, he catches a glimpse of something slick and dangerously similar to blood. It’s blood, probably. Definitely it is. Who cares, he thinks as he drops to his knees and takes a look at one of the men’s jacket. It’s covered in blood and ripped apart, but the lettering is still mostly visible.  
  
_LF Service_ _  
__  
_ It could mean anything, however Connor’s quick to realize they were sent by Life Foundation, in all likelihood by Elijah Kamski himself. It freezes the blood in his veins. He’s stolen the symbiote. He’s a criminal now.  
  
“We have to go,” he says aloud, not looking forward for anyone to respond him, but the voice appears again.  
  
**_You’re not as smart as I thought you would be, but I’ve seen worse. Get your ass up._** ** _  
_****_  
_**_It won’t hurt you to be nice, I swear._ _  
__  
_**_I don’t give a fuck, I swear._** ** _  
_****_  
_** The man sighs. It’s going to be a long trip.  
  
Before he even tries to leave the flat, he returns to the bedroom to make sure Gavin is alright. He is, of course, confused and scared, hiding under the bed, but when he sees Connor it’s not hard to get him out of there. Connor carries him to the kitchen, petting him all the way and taking pleasure in his soft fur while he still can, and places him on the counter. He makes sure to open all cabinets and containers, and also lifts the window a couple of inches.  
  
“You’ll be fine, buddy,” he whispers, patting the cat’s head one last time. He heads outside and locks the door in a hurry, partly because he’s in real danger and partly because hell, he’s gonna miss that little bastard.  
  
**_You really care about that hairy creature, don’t you._**  
  
_I do. He hates me, but I love him. It was always a lost battle._  
  
He runs down the stairs. The street looks empty and calm, but he has a gut feeling that it’s not going to be like that for long. There’s his motorcycle parked in the corner and he tries to make a beeline for it, rummaging through his pockets to find the keys. however his symbiote doesn’t let him.  
  
**_We’re not gonna expose ourselves by riding a fucking bike. It’ll  be a piece of cake for them to track us down then. We’re gonna use the sewage system._** ** _  
_****_  
_**_We’re gonna what? I’m not going there!_ _  
__  
_**_Good that you don’t get a say on this matter._** ** _  
_****_  
_** His body doesn’t change like it did in the flat before, it’s just not his again. It’s annoying, and this thought gets him a ruff vibrating laugh from the symbiote. From _Henry_. He sounds so human and reacts like one, maybe he wouldn’t be a bad friend if he was a real man after all.  
  
_I refuse to call you Henry, it sounds like an old rusty guy without relatives. Maybe Hank?_ _  
__  
_ Connor doesn’t get a reply for a solid five minutes during which the symbiote makes him find a sewage grate, lift it and slip into the dark tunnels. He has dirty, stinking water up to his ankles and he swears he heard squeaking of rats that ran away as soon as he appeared. When he slides the grate back into place and closes the entrance, darkness falls over him. He doesn’t see anything and instantly starts to panic.  
  
**_Hank will do._** ** _  
_****_  
_** It comforts him, stops the sickness building up in his throat. Hank steers his left leg to make a first heavy step through the water, so the next ones go easily and the tunnel fills up with the sound of splashing.  
  
_Where are we going?_ Unable to form a word with his lips, Connor asks in his mind. They’re surely heading somewhere, there’s no hesitation in Hank’s moves, but the fact that they’re in complete blackness and under the streets doesn’t help Connor in guessing the location.  
  
**_The bridge I saw in your memories. Life Foundation isn’t far from there._** ** _  
_****_  
_**_Why do you want to come back there? I thought you didn’t like being imprisoned. I freed you, don’t you wanna use your brand new freedom?_ _  
__  
_**_I am using it. I’ll go there, find another spaceship and fly back to my planet._** ** _  
_****_  
_** It sounds… weird, doesn’t make actual sense, so Connor dismisses it for a moment, but it itches and itches and itches. He’s always been unnaturally curious – he’s going to die because of it and no one’s going to be surprised, especially Tracy.  
  
_You have a family there?_ _  
__  
_**_Not anymore. Just gonna bring my people here, so they can make y’all their hosts and stuff. Never really listened what the plan said, but since I am here already, maybe I’ll make myself useful._** ** _  
_****_  
_**_You’re kidding, right?_ _  
__  
_ No response. Awesome.  
  
Hank starts humming some melody and it makes Connor’s curiosity grow five times bigger – he’d really love to find out what music sounds like on other planets, in other civilizations. It turns out that Hank raided his memory without his consent and chose the catching first tones of “Highway to hell”. Thank God he’s not a Taylor Swift fan.  
  
His thoughts slip away to Tracy at some point – he doesn’t feel the yearning anymore which is good, even if its absence is suspicious. Connor suspects it might be his new _roommate_ ’s doing; Hank’s already been changing his moods as if he’s been looking for his favorite one, so it can’t get any weirder, right? Maybe it’s not that bad that he’s here after all.  
  
Ellie’s worried face flashes through his mind, reminding him of the hospital and that he needs to get there. Shit.  
  
**_No._** _  
__  
__It’s urgent. Traci’s going to kill me if I ignore her any longer. Please._ _  
__  
_**_It’s the woman with blue hair, eh? She doesn’t look very threatening._** ** _  
_****_  
_**_She is, you gotta believe me._ _  
__  
_**_She was someone special to you. You missed her. You still do._** ** _  
_****_  
_** Connor doesn’t reply. It’s… It hurts him to talk about her. She was the only person he had and now, with her gone almost completely out of his life, he doesn’t know what he has left. And even if it wasn’t love for the last months and only a desperate need to _have_ someone by his side, it’s still something he won’t get over with quickly.  
  
**_I feel your pain. It’s too much, isn’t it? You’re not strong enough to hold it all by yourself._** _  
__  
__Stop. Drop it._ _  
__  
_**_I took a part of that pain, you know. You shouldn’t have to feel it at all._** ** _  
_****_  
_**_You did… what?_  
  
He didn’t expect it. Sure, Hank doesn’t seem like a complete alien, but Connor didn’t know he could be so human. He _is_ more human than most people Connor has ever met, he realizes.  
  
This gruff voice returns, all of a sudden getting grumpy. It’s sort of cute. **_Your suffering is too much for you. I felt it once, too, I know it’s no fun. You just don’t have to get through it alone._** ** _  
_****_  
_** Maybe if Connor wasn’t so surprised and, he has to admit, abashed, he would’ve made fun of Hank right now, even if it cost him some physical pain. However the warmth that spreads throughout his body is so overwhelming, and he’s certain it comes from Hank himself. It feels good, but Connor’s a shit with Feelings™ so he tries to shake it off and not do any damage.  
  
_Thanks, I guess._ _  
__  
_ Silence. The water still smells like a bunch of dead cows, but Connor’s nose is getting used to it, he thinks. His shoes are completely soaked, his toes are starting to stiffen, and he doesn’t even care anymore. It’s true that he feels mentally better at least – Hank’s warmth is still there and Connor wants the symbiote to know that he’s grateful, but he was always bad with words. He hopes Hank knows.  
  
At some point, his legs stop.  
  
_We’re there, aren’t we._ _  
__  
_ No response, just like all those times before. Connor desperately wants to sigh to let Hank know about all his complaints without actually saying them aloud – or in his mind, as he’s been doing – but yes, you’re right, he can’t. Fucking alien.  
  
Apparently, Hank can see in darkness and he doesn’t share his sight with Connor, so the man’s left to wonder where they even are. Which grate they will open as his body climbs a wet and a bit rusty metal ladder that leads to the open world. He lifts it pretty easily and thank God it’s after dusk, otherwise he’d be blinded now. An alley in which they appear is small and horrid and somehow looks familiar.  
  
_You said we were going to the labs._ _  
__  
_ Hank doesn’t reply, but the control over Connor’s body comes back to him and finally, the man can sigh just in spite the symbiote. He looks around, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim street lights and soon he recognizes his location.  
  
**_Maybe it’s not a bad idea to see your Traci._** **_She sounded worried about you._** ** _  
_****_  
_** And the only thing Connor wants is to thank him, because hey, he’s not that much of an asshole, but in the same second Hank’s warmth brushes his insides. He knows. They don’t need words.

He makes his way to the front of the hospital, trying not to look too suspicious and probably failing. The lobby is lit almost too bright for his eyes to handle and the few people that occupy the white, plastic and awfully uncomfortable chairs near the reception watch him carefully as he blinks way too many times. He doesn’t stop until he reaches the floor which Ellie’s office is located on and Traci’s unique hair looms in front of it.

The second Connor steps closer, he sees that she’s talking with Ellie who stands on the threshold. They both look at him with relief painted on their faces, Ellie’s hand landing on his shoulder.

“We thought you weren’t gonna show up,” Traci says and eyes him very, very cautiously from his head to the feet. Connor sends her a reassuring smile, suddenly feeling emotionally drained. She hasn’t stopped caring.

**_She won’t. Stop worrying that is._ **

He smiles even wider when Hank’s voice flows through his ears along with another touch of comfort. Maybe he’s right, after all.

“I was… met with a simple inconvenience.”

Hank snorts. It’s... adorable.

Ellie squeezes his shoulder, looking somewhat calmer as she drags him inside the room, Traci following close behind. “I think I found a way to remove your parasite,” she starts when the door closes. Connor notices that the room is empty except of them before he starts to understand what she means. His head snaps back to her, shock incomprehension on his features. “It reacts to high sounds that human ears aren’t able to hear. They’re harmless for you, but my theory is that they can kill the parasite after longer exposure.”

No.

Connor’s scared of pain, of course he is, the first time was a nightmare, but on the other hand… He’s afraid for Hank. He _cares_ for him, he realizes after a second and tears of helplessness appear in his eyes. Liking an alien? He’s so fucked up.

**_You’re not._ **

_Stop, you don’t even know me._

Anger flies through their connection, but it’s quickly covered by gentleness. By trust. By some warm feeling that Connor can’t quite place and it makes the whole situation even worse.

**_I know all your thoughts and I’ve seen your past. You’re not fucked up, just lost._ **

Connor lifts his gaze from the floor and glances at Ellie, and then at Traci. They both look confused as all hell, so he tries to smile, and wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

**_You’re a good man, Connor. When will you stop doubting the truth?_ **

“I… I don’t want to remove him,” the man says out loud, earning weird looks and Tracy shaking her head aggressively. She opens her mouth, ready to argue, however Ellie’s quiet voice stops her before she can even start.

“Him?”

Oh, right. Because he can’t control his tongue.

**_Tell ‘em._ **

“I won’t,” he replies out loud.

 ** _Now you have to_ **.

Hank’s delighted laugh echoes through Connor’s mind. He feels extremely dumb for not thinking and extremely good for making the symbiote amused at the same time. The man takes a deep breath, exhales and meets Traci’s gaze fearfully. 

“Those parasites have their own minds. They’re really _alive_.”

Traci laughs. Honest to God laughs, but Ellie still looks frightened and maybe, just maybe she’s starting to believe him. He hopes so at least.

**_Let’s show them._ **

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

**_Come on, you have nothing to lose._ **

Connor has, in fact, a lot to lose right now, but decides to comply anyway. He lifts his hands sheepishly and very carefully addresses both women. “I’m going to show him to you. Don’t… Don’t run away, okay? And don’t scream.”

He has no idea what Hank looks like – well, he’s seen his eyes and he knows that the symbiote’s body is silver, not black like the other two he’s seen, but apart from that? He just hopes he isn’t terrifying.

Connor nods to no one in particular, knowing that Hank will understand and he does. However, the man doesn’t feel his body growing – it doesn’t, in fact, grow. Nothing changes except of the soft mass that covers the right half of his face, bringing the same warmth Hank always tries to give him. He loses himself in the feeling for a moment and when he comes back, Traci is squeezing Ellie’s arm and the other woman looks in pain, but doesn’t let it show much.

“This is Hank,” he says dumbly and reaches his right hand, gently putting it on the mass. On _Hank_ . He’s hot to the touch, and smooth, and when Connor lets his fingers linger on him, Hank purrs in his mind. _Purrs._ Like a fucking cat.

“What the fuck.” Tracy’s eyes widen with each passing second, but Ellie looks kind of… curious? She smiles and tilts her head, and Connor feels Hank’s mutual interest on the other end of their connection.

“Should I say hi?” The doctor asks. She doesn’t have to wait long.

“ **_I guess so_ **.”

His voice is rougher and creepier out loud than it was in Connor’s mind, yet it still carries a solid amount of kindness. He feels Hank smiling, so he does it too, subconsciously.

“ **_Hello_ ** ,” the symbiote murmurs gently, his attention shifting to Traci, who raises her eyebrows. She looks unsure, but Connor doesn’t feel any change in Hank’s mood, so he guesses it’s okay. The blue-haired woman smiles after a second which is, to be fair, a great achievement.  
  
“Do you understand now?”  
  
He’s… no, not afraid. If he feels anything, it’s just worry – the biggest worry that has ever sat on the bottom of his heart. In some way, it feels like it’s not only his own.

_Hank?_

Nothing echoes in his head, there’s no voice, but Connor understands. The feeling flows between them, seeping through Connor’s bones and making them numb, and he understands. He wants to comfort Hank like the symbiote has already comforted him so many times before, however he doesn’t know how. He feels helpless, again. Luckily, Traci quickly cuts the train of his thoughts.

“I… might know what you’re talking about,” she says somewhat gently, gaze previously focused on Hank drifting towards Connor. “If you want to keep him, we can’t really make you do anything. It’s entirely your choice.” This is the Traci he loved. And maybe he still does, in more familiar way than anything, and so his heart aches for the emotion. It’s still in her – she doesn’t despise him like he thought, she still cares despite the new person in her life.

“I get you, Connor, I really do,” Ellie starts carefully and her caution doesn’t feel right. His muscles tingle at the sound of it. “I don’t think this is a good idea, to let him live inside you. No offence,” she quickly recovers when Connor feels Hank bare his teeth. “But his influence kills you. Whoever he would be, he’s still a parasite, really harmful in addition. He _caused_ the cancer.”

“ **_I won’t find another host like him. Our compatibility is far above the average compatibility between one of my kind and their host. Both our minds and our bodies are meant to be together. We aren’t whole without each other._ **”

Connor has never heard more awful and sappy shit – well, maybe in some terrible romantic movies Traci used to watch, but in real life? God no.

He hates the warmth that spreads through his body at the symbiote’s words though. It’s not Hank’s, it’s his own body betraying him and forming a burning blush on his neck and cheeks. He’s sure Hank notices – how wouldn’t he – but he hopes at least Traci and Ellie don’t.

“It’s still nothing good,” the latter insists, causing a ball of anger bubbling in Connor’s lungs; Hank’s anger. The man tries to stop him from bursting out, yet again, the symbiote’s much better than him in mental things.

“ **_You don’t understand_ ** ,” it sounds furious, however Hank isn’t yelling. Somehow, he manages to bring shivers on Connor’s skin with just a murmur. “ **_I may be able to find another body to live in, but definitely not on the first try._ **

**_“And I think it would affect you that Connor would die if we separated._ **”

Oh. So basically, he’s dead. Hank could leave at any second and Connor would be gone in matter of days, maybe weeks. The symbiote is the only thing that keeps him alive, isn’t he? It all happened by accident and now he’s bound to him if he wants to live, if he wants to do something with his life. It could be so easy, to let go and rest, slip away into the endless emptiness, and Connor wants it and he doesn’t at the same time. It’s exhausting.

He’s tired, after all. Really, really tired. Exhaustion sits in his joints and makes them heavier, and he can’t lift them even though theoretically he has the strength to do so. His mind is foggy and he can’t focus anymore, he isn’t sure if he wants to. It’s just too much, it’s been too much for a long time now. He could use a rest.

**_Don’t you dare keep thinking like that._ **

Hank’s voice is there again, rough but kind, low but gentle. Connor feels safe again. Confidence slowly comes out of the corner it was hiding in.

“I’m okay, Ellie, trust me.” He looks at Traci, tries to smile at her. He thinks he succeeded when she smiles back. “I… I’ll call you when something changes. I promise.”

Next thing Connor knows Traci is hugging him so tightly he feels like his bones might break, Hank no longer in sight. She’s so warm, her hands so soft on his skin as she pets his hair and strokes his bare neck. Her touch feels right, in a new, better way. He might miss it. Ellie’s embrace is lighter and less confident, however Hank mumbles something that Connor can’t decode, something that comes along with happiness, so the man takes it as a good sign and rubs the doctor’s back gently.

He leaves the room and sits outside of it, on a single plastic chair that creaks as he lands on it carelessly, and he puts his face in his hands. It’s late and he hasn’t slept well in days. Maybe he’ll catch a few hours if he’s lucky enough.

**_I’d love to give them to you, but I’m afraid we have no time to waste._ **

_And suddenly you want me to do something. What is it?_

A snort echoes in his mind, so he smiles subconsciously. The sounds Hank keeps making are adorable, if Connor is honest.

**_You remember the first symbiote that fled the day Kamski’s spaceship crashed, right? I saw a woman in your memories. She told you about him._ **

Connor lets his hands fall from his face in confusion and growing fury.

_I’m not going to help you with finding your friend, so you can both take over the planet. I hope I don’t have to repeat that._

**_Actually, I hate that guy. I need to find him and kill him, ya know. Destroy some of Kamski’s spaceship too, his labs if you want._**

_Am I going insane or did you really suggest you want to kill your mate and do some good things with me? Are you starting to like humanity?_

**_Maybe not humanity, but I like your friends. And you._ **

Connor laughs and immediately feels grateful that there aren’t many people in the hospital. He musts be looking mad as hell.

He stands, putting his hands in the big pocket of his hoodie and smirks. “We have some asses to kick, huh?”

**_If you must say it like that. But basically, yeah._ **

And for the first time in days, Connor feels full of energy and stubbornness again. He’s thinks he’s starting to like Hank, too.

**Author's Note:**

> here's the link to owlapin's post: [ART](http://owlapinart.tumblr.com/post/182401786857/my-part-for-2018-hankcon-big-bang-fate-that-i)
> 
> come shout at me on tumblr [@someonefromthere](https://someonefromthere.tumblr.com/)


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